


Fade/In

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: Ducks, First Meetings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 01:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: Without light, Hearthstone is dying. The dwarf he's met claims he can help...and Hearth has no choice but to trust him.





	Fade/In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Franzeska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franzeska/gifts).



When Hearth woke up the second time, he felt weaker, not stronger, though that wasn't really a surprise. There was no sunlight at all here in Nidavellir. He was going to fade, and fade, until there was nothing of him left.

Probably what he deserved. Maybe his people were right; he shouldn't be dealing in magic. After all, it had landed him in a place that might as well have been designed to kill him.

There was motion from across the room. His rescuer was at a workbench, in shirtsleeves, his arms moving with deliberation. Hearth dragged himself to his feet to see what he was doing.

There was a small figurine resting on the workbench, crafted in gold and brass. Hearth squinted at it.

Blitzen ( _you can call me Blitz for short,_ he'd written on a notepad, once he'd realized Hearth's ears were only good for balance, and not always great at that) looked back at him, mouthed something, then thought better of it. Instead he gave Hearth a half-hearted wave.

 _Duck?_ Hearth signed.

Blitz frowned. 

Of course. By now Hearth should know that people rarely understood him. Hearth made the sign again, slower, and pointed between the duck bill he was making with his fingers and the tiny metal duck on Blitz's work table. _Duck._

"Oh, duck," Blitz said. At least Hearth assumed it was _duck._ D was a tricky consonant. He copied Hearth's sign, and then signed _yes?_

 _Yes,_ Hearth signed back. Blitz wanted to learn. That was more than Hearth was used to. If he wasn't so damn _weak--_

Blitz was signing. _Duck make--_ He grabbed a pad and pencil from the workbench. _I make waterfowl when I'm nervous. I'm sorry. I'm going to help._

Hearth hadn't spent a lot of time with dwarves, but he'd never met one who made _anything_ out of nervousness. Much less ducks.

Then again, he certainly wouldn't have expected any dwarf to drag him home, either, much less feed him soup and offer to _help._ Still, Hearth couldn't figure out how tinkering away at a workbench was going to give him strength. He needed _light._

But the soup had been good.

He took Blitz's pencil from his hand. _Thank you. More soup?_ Then he signed what he'd just written.

Blitz's eyes lit with comprehension. _Soup,_ he repeated, then took the pencil back. _Sit down. You need more rest._ He paused, pencil in hand, and looked up at Hearth. _You can show me later. How to say these things. When you're stronger._

Blitz's hands were a craftsman's, though not as calloused or worn as Hearth might have expected. He let Hearth take the pencil again, and his fingers were warm. _You don't have to,_ Hearth wrote.

 _Want to. Now rest._ He folded his arms under his chin, signing _sleep._

 _Soup,_ Hearth insisted.

Blitz's mouth formed a little _o,_ like he'd almost forgotten, and he got up and walked toward his kitchen.

Hearth followed him, sinking back into the kitchen chair. It felt like everything was weighing him down, even the air he was breathing. He sunk his head down on his folded hands and closed his eyes. Blitz was right. He needed rest. The more energy he saved, the longer--

The longer it would take for him to die. Put that way it didn't sound much better.

But Blitz had said _I'm going to help._ Maybe a little trust would be all right. He didn't have much to lose, anyway.

He woke when Blitz put a hand on his arm, gently touched the bowl of steaming soup. _Eat,_ he signed.

Had he taught Blitz that one? He wasn't sure. His head was starting to feel thick. He had enough strength to lift the spoon to his mouth at least, as long as he took it slow and remembered to breathe.

He hadn't thought this was what dying would feel like. He'd always thought it would be more...dramatic. Like Andiron, screaming for help that couldn't come. Like when he'd fallen through reality and into Nidavellir. It would have been easier if he'd broken his neck then and there. Saved him this. Saved Blitz all the work.

Blitz had caught his hand. Had he drifted away again? Whatever had happened, Blitz was spooning the soup into his mouth, and Hearth opened and closed his lips like a baby bird. It wouldn't be much longer now. Maybe he'd see Andiron again, at least, in--

Blitz tapped his wrist. _Eat,_ he signed again, insistent.

 _Pointless,_ Hearth signed, but he was too weak to fight against the hand feeding him. When he'd eaten enough to satisfy Blitz, Blitz pulled him back from the chair, lifted his weight over Blitz's shoulder. Back to bed. Bed was a good enough place to die.

When he woke, though, he felt stronger, which made no sense, as he was in total darkness--

There was something over his eyes.

Hearth moved to sit up and knocked his head, hard, on something metallic. He put his hand up, but someone--it must have been Blitz--was already there, catching his wrist, pushing a broad, gentle hand on his chest in an attempt to get him back down.

Hearth hardly had room to sign, and still couldn't see anything. With more energy, his brain was working again. Where was his gear? _Where were his runes?_ How had Biltz gotten him here, how was he--

Letters, drawn in his palm. _W - A - I - T._

 _No,_ he signed back, and shook his head for emphasis. 

_S - T - R - O - N - G - E - R_ \--pause-- _I F_ \--pause-- _W - A - I - T._

Hearth shook his head again. _No. No._

Blitz took his arm and pulled him--to the side, into--

Hearth pushed the blindfold off his face and blinked in the brightness. He was still in Blitz's apartment, shirtless, with a blindfold, and there was a strange blue light--

He'd just gotten out of a tanning bed.

 _A tanning bed._ It looked like a conventional Midgard tanning bed, the kind of thing people paid money to stay in for reasons Hearth had never understood.

Blitz had run to the kitchen table and had come back with the pad. Hearth watched him write. _I think it's working. Please stay in there, and keep the blindfold on, I don't know if the light will hurt your eyes._ Now that Hearth wasn't actively fading away, he could get a better look at the dwarf. He wasn't bad-looking, dark skin and lively eyes. And even Hearth, who rarely paid attention to these things, could tell he dressed well. That would have to have been a deliberate choice in Nidavellir.

 _You made--_ Hearth signed and snatched the pencil and paper. _You made me this._

Blitz nodded. 

_Why?_

Blitz paused before he took the paper and pad back. _Because you were dying._

_You didn't have to do that._

_I did._ Blitz paused. _Now will you please get some more rest? I didn't go to that work so you could die._

Well, when he put it like that, it didn't sound like he had much choice. _Thank you,_ he signed.

Blitz stopped him before he took the pencil back. _Thank me by resting._

 _You're bossy,_ he signed, and got back in the tanning bed before Blitz could ask for a translation.


End file.
